


As the Beast Slumbers

by Anonymous



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Objectification, Somnophilia, Trans Jonathan Sims, Trans Martin Blackwood, Vaginal Fingering, scottish safehouse era but like. bad, slight virginity kink, unsafehouse if you will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:07:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25244383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Martin has taken to watching Jon sleep. He soon takes to doing other things while Jon sleeps.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 5
Kudos: 69
Collections: Anonymous





	As the Beast Slumbers

**Author's Note:**

> Martin does bad things to Jon. That’s it that’s the fic. Please heed the tags.
> 
> The words cock, cunt, and folds are used for trans male anatomy.

Martin has found he enjoys watching Jon sleep.

Jon is beautiful when he sleeps. Jon is beautiful all the time, but there’s something different about him when he’s asleep. When Jon is awake, his piercing eyes open and staring, he seems powerful. But sound asleep, Jon is small and vulnerable in a way that reminds Martin of the man he met when he was first hired at the Institute. The man with graying but not yet fully gray hair and two ( _only_ two) gentle brown eyes and somewhat unkempt clothes that covered pristine, unscarred skin. The man Martin would imagine lying next to him in bed, idly fantasising about him while he ignored his Institute duties.

In the dark, as Jon sleeps, Martin can almost imagine this is the man lying next to him. The dark obscures the many scars that marr Jon’s flesh, and Martin can sort of convince himself Jon’s hair is still black instead of the cold gray it had been dyed by years of pain and fear. When Jon’s eyes, all of his eyes, are closed and covered by soft blankets, Martin can pretend he’s still human.

It feels like a sick joke. It feels needlessly cruel that Martin would be able to be with the man he loves only after that man had been chewed up and spit out by the most horrid things the world has to offer.

Martin thinks he deserves good things. Nearly every moment of his life is evidence to the contrary, but he truly wants to believe it. And here, in the safehouse, he supposes he has good things. Jon is more lovely than he’d ever allowed himself to hope for, even through layers of trauma and an air of something distinctly inhuman he is good, and Martin enjoys his company. Cooking breakfast with Jon, cuddling with Jon, going about a wholesome domestic life with Jon despite everything going on outside, these are all good things and Martin tells himself he deserves them.

But watching Jon sleep is something else entirely. These moments of sitting in bed in the middle of the night, watching Jon’s body rise and fall beneath the blankets, they are uniquely _his_ in a way most of his time spent with Jon simply isn’t. It’s not exactly that Martin is alone, Jon is right here after all, but he is asleep and unaware and this time is really for Martin and Martin alone. The beautiful, delicate presence of Jon’s sleeping body is a transcendently good thing, and Martin desperately wants to believe he deserves it.

Martin is a good person. Martin is a good person who deserves good things. It’s not that he thinks he’s entitled to whatever he wants. It’s not that he feels inclined to forcibly take whatever good things come within his reach. He simply feels he should be able to have something nice every so often. Something that makes him feel good.

Sitting up in bed and watching Jon sleep was, on its own, a harmless thing. Martin loved Jon so dearly, and he truly was uniquely beautiful when he slept, and Martin relished the moments he spent watching him. It was embarrassing, sure, and he never intended to tell Jon he was doing it, but he wouldn’t be upset if Jon found out. An odd form of affection, but an understandable one.

He wasn’t thinking of hurting Jon in those moments. It never would have crossed his mind, he _loved_ Jon so very dearly and the thought of hurting him would make Martin sick.

When Martin pulled the blankets off of Jon’s sleeping body, every thought going through his head was full of love and affection, reverence at the beauty of the man lying next to him. Words like _hurt_ , _violate_ , _abuse_ , even worse things that turned Martin’s stomach just to think about didn’t even cross his mind as he knelt next to Jon. It wasn’t some sudden horrible impulse, some twisted desire he just couldn’t ignore. It was simply the logical continuation of his love.

Jon was laying on his back, sound asleep, clad in a t-shirt and plaid pajama bottoms. Martin stared and stared and stared, just like he did every night, his heart beating so hard and so fast he could hear it pounding in his chest. He placed a hand over his mouth to disguise his laboured breathing. He couldn’t wake Jon, not now, not during his viewing. Until then, he’d avoided touching Jon at all for fear of waking him, but he couldn’t stop staring at Jon’s legs, straightened and slightly spread and so utterly inviting. Martin moved as carefully as he could, swinging a leg over Jon’s thigh and sinking down onto it.

It shouldn’t have felt the way it did. There were two layers of clothing between his skin and Jon’s, their bodies were only barely touching, it shouldn’t have felt so fucking good…

Martin squeezed his legs together like a vice, holding Jon’s thigh tightly between his own. He still held a hand over his mouth, trying to stifle the noises slipping from it, but he figured if Jon didn’t wake after being mounted he likely wouldn’t wake from that. Martin could feel something soaking through his boxers, hot and slick and dirty. He tried to be ashamed of it. It turned him on more.

He rocked his hips, gently pressing himself against Jon’s thigh. His boxers were certainly soaked through by now, and he was bound to leave a damp spot on Jon’s pajama pants. He’d just have to hope it dried before Jon woke up. It wasn’t like he could stop now, after all. Even with his hand over his mouth, little whimpers of pleasure were escaping his lips. He stared into Jon’s closed eyes. He was beautiful. Martin shifted back and forth, dragging his cunt over Jon’s thigh. It occurred to him that he and Jon had never actually had sex. Jon didn’t want to, and Martin didn’t really feel like he was missing out. When he thought about it in that moment, he realised he still didn’t actually want to have sex with Jon. What he was doing wasn’t sex. Jon was still asleep, after all, if this was sex then that would mean…

Martin didn’t let that thought cross his mind. What he wanted was this, Jon’s beautiful unconscious body against his own, gentle and still and perfect. And he deserved this, didn’t he? He deserved to feel good for once in his life. He deserved Jon’s gorgeous body, spread before him like a banquet, pressed between his legs and against his cunt. He loved Jon so dearly, and he’d waited so long and been through so much and now that he was with him, didn’t he deserve to make Jon _his?_

Martin’s orgasm hit him like a freight train. He squeezed his thighs tightly around Jon’s leg, barely stifling the soft moan that fell from his mouth. Shudders of pleasure racked his body, and he spent a good few moments staring down at Jon. He was so perfect it made Martin want to scream.

The guilt hit Martin in the shower that morning. He wasn’t delusional. He knew he’d crossed a line. Watching Jon sleep was one thing, but this was different. Whether the line had come when he’d pulled the sheet back or when he’d lowered himself onto Jon’s thigh or when he actually came on him, it had very much been crossed now. He wondered briefly if Jon would find out, if Jon would Know what he did. He wondered how Jon would feel. He tried to tell himself it wasn’t so bad, Jon would understand, he knew Martin loved him and everything Martin did was out of love for him. Jon was just so beautiful, he couldn’t resist, surely Jon would understand?

Jon doesn’t mention anything throughout the day, and the tightness in Martin’s chest is ever so slowly replaced with burning desire. Jon holds Martin close as they sit together on the couch, and Martin can’t stop staring at his legs. Jon strokes his hair, and Martin melts into the touch. A few eyes on Jon’s ankles are staring up at Martin as if they know, they know what he did, they know what he’s thinking now, they know how wet he’s getting just from the mere sight of Jon’s body. Martin looks forward to that night, he looks forward to those eyes closing and leaving him alone with his thoughts and with Jon’s beautiful form.

Martin doesn’t even bother trying to sleep. He nestles himself close to Jon, so close their thighs are touching, and waits as all of Jon’s eyes flutter closed. His breaths quicken once again, and he doesn’t cover his mouth this time, he knows Jon isn’t going to wake up. He gently brushes a lock of Jon’s hair out of his face. It really is even more beautiful like this, slightly obscured by the dark. Martin presses his forehead to Jon’s and slowly moves a hand down the back of Jon’s thigh.

He never consciously decided he was going to do this again, but it was always going to happen. The sensation of Jon’s body against his cunt was profoundly addictive, and now that he had the chance to feel it again he _needed_ it. Martin gently pushed Jon’s leg forward, sliding one of his own legs under it as he did so. Jon’s body was small and light and surprisingly easy to move and manipulate. It was like he was meant to be used like this. Martin wrapped his legs around Jon’s thigh, pressing it firmly against his cunt and shifting slightly. A surge of pleasure shot through his body and he wrapped his arms tightly around Jon to ground himself. Jon’s mouth hung open slightly, his jaw slack, and Martin kissed him. He was moaning into Jon’s mouth before too long, grinding against his thigh and holding his body ever so close to him. He bit down on Jon’s lip as he came and once again thanked whatever god there was that Jon was such a heavy sleeper.

There was spit dripping down Jon’s chin and a noticeable wet spot on the front of his trousers. Martin knew they’d be dry by morning, and he found himself somewhat disappointed by it. The shimmer on Jon’s lips only added to his striking beauty, and Martin spent a good long time staring at him as he came down from his orgasm. He was even hesitant to pull off of Jon’s thigh. It felt too good. He really could fall asleep like this. Even if Jon did wake up before him, he could always just pass it off as them accidentally getting tangled up in the night.

Martin didn’t stop after two nights. Why would he, after all? Jon was too beautiful, he felt too good, Martin probably couldn’t stop if he wanted to. And he didn’t want to. The guilt wasn’t enough to make him hesitate, and after a week or so it started to fade anyway. Jon never said a word that would make Martin think he knew, and he got used to the eyes staring into his soul. He didn’t care what the eyes thought of it. Jon was his.

But Martin wanted more. And he deserved more, didn’t he?

Taking off his boxers was a triviality. He was surprised he hadn’t been doing it from the beginning, really. Of course the lack of a barrier means he’ll be getting plenty of slick on Jon’s trousers, but if Jon didn’t notice before Martin doubted he would now. The texture of Jon’s pajama bottoms feels lovely against Martin’s cunt, soft and warm and eagerly soaking up his slick. Martin wraps his arms around Jon as he drags his cunt over his thigh. Jon is so close to him, the act is so beautifully intimate, Martin doesn’t know how he ever lived without this. He doesn’t stop after he comes, wrapping his legs even tighter around Jon’s and continuing to rut against him. His cock is sensitive and tender as he presses it firmly into Jon’s thigh. Martin rocks back and forth, dragging his slick up and down Jon’s thigh until he comes a second time. He’s really made a mess of Jon’s trousers. It’s beautiful.

Taking Jon’s trousers off proves a bit more difficult, but not so difficult as to make Martin hesitate. He pulls the sheets back first, taking a moment to marvel at Jon’s beauty before tugging at his waistband. Martin is pleasantly surprised to find he’s not wearing any pants underneath the pajama bottoms. He carefully lifts Jon’s hips, pulling his trousers off little by little. It’s an odd sort of dance, holding Jon’s body up with one hand and pulling on his trousers with the other until he manages to get them past the ever so slight curve of Jon’s ass. Martin can’t resist a brief touch then, sliding his hand underneath Jon and grabbing at his exposed bottom. It’s small, but it’s beautifully soft, and Martin desperately wants to roll Jon over and cover it in kisses. He files that thought away in the back of his mind and continues removing his trousers. They come off the rest of the way fairly easily, and Martin gently sets them aside. He doesn’t bother to think about how (or if) he’s going to get them back on.

Martin sits between Jon’s bare legs, admiring his handiwork. His eyes quickly go to Jon’s cunt. It’s the first time he’s seen this part of Jon, and it is as beautiful as the rest of him. Martin can feel wet heat building between his thighs, eager to get started with the night’s activities, but he also can’t help but want to take a look first. He pushes Jon’s legs further apart and hunches down for a better look.

It’s dark, and Martin can’t see much, but he’s in awe at what he can see. Jon’s little cock is just barely visible through the thick tufts of his pubic hair, and Martin is so very very in love. He reaches down to part Jon’s folds in the hopes of getting a better look. They are lusciously soft, and Jon’s cock really is beautiful now that Martin can truly get a look at it. He presses his thumb against it and shivers with excitement. He wonders how it would feel in his mouth, and files that thought away as well. So many delightful things to do with Jon’s body.

Out of passing curiosity, Martin presses his finger to the opening of Jon’s cunt. He isn’t particularly wet, so Martin takes his finger to his mouth and wets it with spit. He doesn’t want to hurt Jon, after all. Martin can taste Jon on his tongue. Of course he tastes lovely. Martin sighs happily and pushes his spit-soaked finger against Jon’s cunt once again.

Jon is _tight_. Martin can’t remember ever having to work so hard just to get one finger into a cunt before. It occurs to him that Jon may have never actually had something inside him before, and it’s a _beautiful_ thought. He’s going to be Jon’s first, marking him, claiming him, making him _his_. Martin grinds down onto the bed, the heat between his legs getting even more intense at the thought.

Jon’s cunt tenses around Martin’s invading finger, and Martin shivers. Apparently it’s possible for Jon to get even tighter than he already is. Martin drags his thumb over Jon’s pretty little cock, which to his pleasant surprise has started to firm up. He wonders if he can make Jon come. He _wants_ to make Jon come.

Martin moves his finger around in Jon’s cunt, curling it ever so slightly. Jon isn’t getting any wetter, but given how his cock has hardened Martin figures that’s not on account of him doing something wrong. Martin slowly slides his finger in and out. He rubs his middle finger around Jon’s entrance, feeling it stretched so very very tight around his finger. It’s incredibly hot, and Martin is incredibly tempted to try and push that second finger in. There’s certainly not any space for it, and the thought that he’d tear Jon open if he tried nags at the back of Martin’s head, but he wants so badly to try.

He moves his finger in a slow circle inside Jon, pulling ever so slightly at his tight entrance. If it hurts, Jon doesn’t react. Martin can hear soft wet noises coming from Jon’s cunt as he moves his finger inside him, and he starts moving it more insistently, trying to draw out more of those beautiful noises. Jon is gradually loosening up, but only just so. Martin can’t wait any longer. He pushes a second finger insistently at Jon’s entrance. For a while he doesn’t think it’s going to work, there’s no room, Jon is just too tight…

And then it slips in.

Jon hisses. Martin freezes, bracing himself for Jon to wake up and start screaming, but Jon doesn’t stir. Martin carefully curls his fingers, barely able to move them in the tight space of Jon’s cunt. He presses his thumb against Jon’s cock and leans down to kiss his bare chest, he knows he must be close now.

“Come on,” Martin whispers against Jon’s chest. “Come for me.”

Jon shudders, his cunt squeezing around Martin’s fingers. Martin rubs his cock, working him through his orgasm. His heart swells with love as he watches Jon shake. Jon is especially beautiful when he comes. Martin slowly and carefully pulls his fingers out of Jon’s cunt, breathing heavily. Slick drips heavily down his bare thighs, his own cunt in desperate need of attention.

Martin’s eyes fall on Jon’s hand laying at his side, his delicate bony fingers curled against his thigh. Martin’s hands move faster than his thoughts and before he can even consider what he’s doing he takes Jon by the wrist and presses his hand against his cunt. The skin of his palm is beautifully soft on Martin’s cock, and Martin whimpers as he rubs himself. He drags Jon’s hand down, and the tip of one of Jon’s fingers slips inside of him. Martin’s breath hitches and he pushes it deeper. Jon’s fingers are thin, but they’re _long_ , and Martin is able to slide it wonderfully deep into himself. He pulls Jon’s hand back and forth, fucking himself with Jon’s finger. It feels incredible and he wants more.

Unlike Jon, Martin is easily able to take two and even three fingers into his cunt. It doesn’t take much effort to manipulate Jon’s fingers into himself, and Martin grips Jon’s wrist tightly as he fucks himself with them. For a moment he closes his eyes and imagines Jon awake and deliberately fingering him, but to his surprise it doesn’t feel as good. Jon’s limp wrist and closed eyes and sleeping body are an essential part of the fantasy. It was never about Jon himself, what really got Martin off was Jon’s body, using it and playing with it like the beautiful luxurious toy it was. Martin squeezed Jon’s wrist tightly and moaned as he came. It was the most wonderful orgasm of his life.

It took Martin a while to get Jon’s trousers back on, especially given how much his hands were shaking, but eventually he managed to get them back on. He pulled the blankets back over Jon and crawled into bed next to him, planting a soft kiss on his forehead before finally going to sleep.

Martin was standing in the kitchen making tea when Jon awoke the next morning. He was still giddy from the previous night’s activities, humming softly as he stirred a spoonful of sugar into his mug. He barely even heard Jon walking up behind him.

“Martin,” Jon growled.

“Hm?” Martin said, turning around. Jon’s hair was a mess. The eyes in his face were sunken, and the eyes on the rest of his body seemed to be glaring at Martin. He was still beautiful.

“Martin,” Jon growled, shaking his head. “What did you do to me last night?”

Martin’s heart dropped.

“W-what do you mean?”

Jon looked deep into Martin’s eyes.

“It… _hurts._ ”

“What hurts?” Martin placed a hand on Jon’s shoulder in an attempt at comfort, but Jon swatted him away.

“You know damn well what hurts, you sick little-”

“Jon, please, just tell me what’s wrong!”

“You… Martin, did you _rape_ me?”

“What? No!” Martin exclaimed.

It wasn’t a lie. At least, Martin believed it when he said it. He hadn’t considered what he did to Jon rape. The thought that he’d raped Jon still made stomach turn, but, well… maybe Jon had a point.

 _”Tell me what you did to me,”_ Jon insisted.

Martin felt the compulsion pulling at his throat. He couldn’t stop it. His eyes went wide as the words started slipping from his mouth.

“I took your trousers off. And I touched you. I touched your beautiful cock and your pretty folds, and then I licked my finger and stuck it in your tight little cunt. And then I worked you open so I could stick another finger in, and you were so tight but I did it and I worked my fingers inside of you until you came. And then I fucked myself with your fingers. It was… it was _so good_. You were so pretty, I just couldn’t help myself.”

Martin had tears in his eyes by the time he finished speaking. Jon was shaking, his hands pulled tightly into fists.

“You raped me.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“What the hell did you mean to do?”

“I don’t know? I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

“Well, that’s what you did. Congratulations.”

Jon carefully sat down at the kitchen table. Martin saw him flinch as he made contact with the chair. He felt awful.

“So why did you do it?” Jon asked, looking at the wall opposite Martin.

“Jon, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry. I want to know why you did it.”

“Jon, listen-”

“Is it because I won’t have sex with you? You knew I wouldn’t give you what you wanted, so you just took it?”

“I… I don’t want to have sex with you.”

“So what did you want? What on Earth was going through your sick little head when you… you…”

“You were just so beautiful. You were beautiful and I needed you.”

“But you didn’t want to have sex with me.”

“Not really.”

“And you didn’t want to hurt me.”

“Of course not!”

“What did you like about it? What about that made you feel good?” Jon’s tone was less angry now, as if he genuinely wanted to know.

“You’re… you’re very pretty when you’re asleep. There’s something about your body, when it’s still and quiet like that, and it felt good to… use it.”

“You liked using me.”

“Yes. I suppose I did.”

“Jesus, Martin.” Jon placed his head in his hands. “You’re sick. You are absolutely fucking sick.”

“I know,” Martin whispered. He picked up his tea with shaking hands and took a sip. “I know.”


End file.
